


When Loved Ones Are Near

by MagicalStranger13



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: F/M, Human AU, NSFW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 05:43:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5528258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicalStranger13/pseuds/MagicalStranger13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas Eve in the King's residence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Loved Ones Are Near

“There we go.”  Marianne said, pressing the shuffle button on the clock radio/CD player on the bedside table, and unleashing the soothing tones of Elvis Presley singing “White Christmas” into the darkened bedroom. 

_I'm dreaming of a White Christmas~_

_Just like the ones I used to know~_

_Where those tree-tops glisten~_

_And children listen~_

_To hear sleigh bells in the snow~_

It was Christmas Eve at last and the King’s house was all set for the most magical night of the year.  Across the house, the Christmas tree was lit and practically dripping with silver angel hair tinsel and various ornaments ranging from decades old to brand new.  Its rainbow fairy lights made it gleam like a beacon of holiday joy shining through the front living room windows into the street where a gentle snow was falling.  Beside the empty fireplace, as a joke, sat a cold bottle of Coors and a saucer with three snowflake-shaped sugar cookies on it. 

_I'm dreaming of a white Christmas~_

_With every Christmas card I write~_

_May your days be merry and bright~_

_And may all your Christmases be white~_

In the master bedroom, it was warm and everything was bathed in soft blueish light pouring in through the window from the outside Christmas lights adorning the house. Marianne snuggled back into Bog’s arms under the blankets and hummed along with the song. 

_I'm dreaming of a white Christmas~_

_Just like the ones I used to know~_

_May your days may your days may your days be merry and bright~_

_And may all your Christmases be white~_

“Why do ye always listen to this album on Christmas Eve?”  Bog curiously asked after a few moments.  

This was their fourth Christmas together and their second as husband and wife.  For the first two years, Bog had been invited to Marianne’s father’s house and spent the night in the guest room.  He would hear the album playing from her old bedroom where she and her younger sister, Dawn, were bunking together.  Last year, his mother had thrown a huge party and Bog, half weighted down from exhaustion and too much spiked eggnog had pretty much passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow, but he vaguely remembered fading in and out of wakefulness to hear bits and pieces of “Santa Clause Is Back In Town” and “Blue Christmas”.  He’d never really had a chance to ask her about it before. 

“Gotta problem with _The_ King all of the sudden?” 

He gave her ribs a playful pinch as “I’ll Be Home For Christmas” began. 

“Come on, now, ye know I’m the last person to complain about The King.  I’m just curious.” 

She giggled and traced indefinable patterns over his chest.  

_I'll be home for Christmas~_

_You can plan on me~_

“It’s a tradition my mom started.”

“Oh?” 

_Please have snow and mistletoe~_

_And presents for the tree~_

“Yeah, when my sister and I were kids, my parents’ house kind of had the same layout as ours, so Mom would always have us sleep in their room so we wouldn’t sneak out of bed and catch ‘Santa’ in the act, you know?”

_Christmas Eve will find me~_

_Where the love light leads~_

“What does that have to do with the album?” 

“Mom especially loved Elvis and she used to play it when she put us to bed.  We’d fall asleep listening to it every Christmas Eve.” 

_I'll be home for Christmas, oh yes~_

_If only in my dreams~_

_I’ll be home for Christmas~_

“I see.  Smart choice for a bedtime Christmas tradition.  It’s very relaxing.” 

“Yeah, almost every time I hear Elvis I think of Mom.  She always made the holidays so special.  It never was the same after she died, but I still try my best to do all the things she used to do around this time of year.”

The next song’s doleful, opening chorus of bells filled the air and Marianne let out a quiet breath of laughter. 

“Speaking of which, this was her favorite track.” 

_Oh, mama liked the roses~_

_She grew them in the yard~_

_But winter always came around~_

_And made the growing way too hard~_

_Oh, mama liked the roses~_

_And when she had the time~_

_She'd decorate the living room~_

_For all us kids to see~_

Bog silently listened to the music and found himself growing more and more mesmerized by Marianne’s face.  There was definite nostalgia in her expression as she stared unseeingly out the window and he felt his heart stir when he noticed the glint of unshed tears brimming in her eyes. 

Many things had changed for him in the last four years, Christmas was probably the most significant, and it was all thanks to this amazing woman beside him.  When they met, she’d seemed just as bitter at the world as he was, but as their friendship and eventual love grew, he saw the air of barely bridled joy around her when she decorated the house, wrapped the presents, watched the TV specials, heard the carols, and visited the various shopping malls, all the while agreeing that the holiday was way over-commercialized, but ultimately unable to deny the gleeful inner child wanting to recreate all her happiest yuletide memories. 

He might’ve been attracted to her spark, but it was the warmth of the fire inside of her that captured him for life.  _She_ was the gift that kept on giving.    

_When I hear the Sunday bells ringing in the morning~_

_I remember crying when she used to sing~_

_Oh, mama liked the roses but most of all she cared~_

_About the way we learned to live and if we said our prayers~_

As Elvis recited the spoken verse of the song, Bog pressed a kiss to his wife’s shoulder. 

“Well, _I_ think ye do a great job makin’ things magical.  I used to not care much about Christmas at all, but ye’ve made me enjoy it now in a way I never did before.  I _know_ that someday, yer gonna make this time o' year just as wonderful fer our kids as yer Mum made it fer you, if not _more_ so.” 

That was apparently the best thing he could’ve said at the moment, for Marianne immediately rolled towards him and captured his mouth in a loving kiss.  It grew more and more heated, yet retained a tenderness that could only be found between two soulmates clinging to each other in the cold winter night.

_Oh, mama liked the roses~_

_In such a special way~_

_We bring them every mother's day~_

_And put them on her grave~_

_Oh, mama liked the roses, mmm~_

_Mama liked the roses, mmm~_

_Oh, mama liked the roses, mmm~_

By the fading end of the chorus, Marianne had worked Bog’s pajama pants down with her toes while he’d pulled her purple butterfly nightshirt over her head and tossed it to the floor.  He cradled her in his arms and suckled her breasts until she gripped his hair and arched towards him with a pleading whine in her throat.  

When he finally released her from his oral torture, he met her lustful gaze and snaked his right hand down her stomach to her aching core.  Marianne bit her lip as she felt Bog expertly part her folds and firmly press the pads of his middle and ring finger against her clitoral hood, making fast, smooth circles.  Oh God, he knew just how to touch her _perfectly_!  Plus the way they were eye-to-eye as he rubbed her pussy was probably the hottest thing ever!

_Oh little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie~_

_Above thy deep and dreamless sleep the silent stars go by~_

_Yet in thy dark streets shineth, the everlasting light~_

_The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight~_

Her hips thrashed and squirmed more and more under his ministrations and it wasn’t long before her whimpering and mewling escalated into a sharp gasp of ecstasy.  She dug her nails into his shoulder and her thighs clamped over his wrist as her orgasm swirled under her skin like a wild gale.  

_For Christ is born of Mary, and gathered all above~_

_While mortals sleep the angels keep their watch of wondering love~_

_Oh morning stars together, proclaim thy holy birth~_

_And praises sing to God the king, and peace to men on earth~_

Bog nuzzled her neck while she recovered, which didn’t take long; he nearly jumped a foot when she sneaked a hand between them to grip his length and guide him to her entrance.  He distracted her by pushing into her slick depths, so he could grab her naughty hand back.   

_Oh little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie~_

_Above thy deep and dreamless sleep the silent stars go by~_

_Yet in thy dark streets shineth, the everlasting light~_

_The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight~_  

Interlocking their fingers, Bog stretched Marianne’s arms up over her head so that their bodies were completely molded together as he made love to her with long, slow thrusts that had her nearly begging in seconds.

  _I_ _hear the bells~_

_Saying Christmas is near~_

_They ring out to tell the world~_

_That this is the season of cheer~_

Such an intimate position allowed Marianne an untrammeled view of all the love and pure adoration in Bog’s eyes as he rocked within her; emotions that were mirrored in her own chocolate orbs.  She panted and moaned at the intensity of it all, coupled with the heavenly torment of his unrushed movements. 

_I hear a choir~_

_Singing sweetly somewhere~_

_And a glow fills my heart~_

_I'm at peace with the world~_

_As the sound of their singing fills the air~_

Her legs wrapped around his waist in a silent plea for more.  Faster.  Harder.  Anything to slake the burning all over her body.  But no, he would take his time; worshipping her the way she deserved: thorough, steady, and passionate.  Like a Christmas angel.

_Oh why can't every day be like Christmas~_

_Why can't that feeling go on endlessly~_

Occasionally, his mouth would descend upon her parted lips, her exposed neck, or her heaving breasts.  He would lap at any precious inch of her flesh he could reach, sometimes biting and sucking to leave marks of his claim.  She tried to return the favor as much as her fevered brain could allow. 

_For if every day could be just like Christmas~_

_What a wonderful world this would be~_

Their intertwined hands squeezed so hard in their rapture, bones throbbed and fingernails left crescent moons between knuckles.  Marianne could feel her climax rising and she whispered shameless, encouraging words of desire in her husband’s ear, driving his own completion all the nearer. 

_I hear a child~_

_Telling Santa what to bring~_

_And the smile upon his tiny face~_

_Is worth more to me than anything~_

Tilting his hips at just the right angle when her jaw dropped open in a silent scream, for he knew her body better than he knew his own, he sent Marianne soaring through the stars in a crescendo of fiery, consuming bliss; and when her channel tightened around his member, he could stand it no more.  He bowed over her and released himself into her womb with a guttural cry of elation.  

_Oh, why can't every day be like Christmas~_

_Why can't that feeling go on endlessly~_

Still struggling to regain their regular heart and breathing rate, Bog released her hands and their arms wrapped around each other as if their very existence depended on it.  She combed her fingers through his tousled hair and massaged the base of his spine with her thumb.  He remained buried within her.  

_For if every day could be just like Christmas~_

_What a wonderful world this would be~_

Marianne’s eyes had drifted closed from the content of their afterglow.  It would never cease to astound her how, despite her original determination to the contrary, she found love again, but not only that, she’d found it again in a way that the first time could never hope to compare.  She loved this man fiercely and she knew she would never stop.  And the beauty of it all, was that she knew, without a shred of doubt, that he felt the same. 

_Silent night, holy night~_

_All is calm, all is bright~_

“Hey, Tough Girl.”  Bog said, giving her a little nudge and prompting her to open her sleepy eyes once more.  “Look.” 

Beside the bed, the red digital clock numbers flashed 12:00 midnight and the couple smiled.  

_'Round yon virgin mother and child~_

_Holy infant so tender and mild~_  

“Merry Christmas, Bog.”

“Merry Christmas, Marianne.” 

_Sleep in heavenly peace~_

_Sleep in heavenly peace~_

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas to all my friends in the Strange Magic fandom!  
> <3<3<3


End file.
